


Drawing a Blank

by Goodfellow



Category: Naruto
Genre: Art, F/M, Ficlet Series, Fluff, I'm not sure where this will go..., Reader-Insert, Sorry Not Sorry, akamaru might be a wingman, but I kind of have, or like wingdog i guess, probably inappropriate jokes in the future but I haven't decided, puns, slice of life?, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodfellow/pseuds/Goodfellow
Summary: It started as an accident. And then it became a routine. Then became much more.Kiba x Reader





	Drawing a Blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't not make the title a pun. It was just begging for it.
> 
> Is there even anyone still in the Naruto fandom? I feel like I'm yelling into the void at this point. Better late than never, right?! I'm not sure how this will continue but it wouldn't go away until I wrote it so we'll see how things go.
> 
> Also YES I SHOULD BE WORKING ON WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE BUT I NEED MORE SOURCE MATERIAL FOR INSPIRATION SO I'M WAITING FOR THE NEXT SEASON. :T

      “Um, could you place your head on your paws, please? Like you were doing before?”

Life is strange sometimes. If someone had told you six months ago that your afternoons would involve you bent over a sketchbook giving direction to a giant fucking dog that served as your model, you would have said they were nuts. But here you were. In the grand scheme of things, this was probably one of the more mundane and “normal” things to take place in a world run by men and women that were capable of great feats such as the manipulation of elements, shadow clones, and breathing fire. 

A grunt from your model brought you to the realization that you had stopped sketching during your musings.

      “Ah, right.” You paused to reassess yourself, taking in the large dog’s new position. “Yes, that’s perfect.” The dog let out a satisfied huff and closed his eyes once more. A gentle smile crept across your visage as you returned your attention to your paper.

It was a beautiful spring day and the sun was at its peak in the sky, reaching down toward you two with its soft rays. The light played on the shifting leaves in the trees surrounding the heath where you sat, back against a sturdy oak. Your pencil worked softly against the press of the paper as you worked on your piece. Your eyes flicked upward to refer back to the brow of the great beast before you.

It had been nearly three weeks since you first happened upon this great dog- or rather since he had happened upon you. You had been sketching some of the vervain which seemed to grow in excess in the area when a rather shocking “thump!” had startled you from your focus. In front of you stood a large white dog. He seemed to give you little regard before stretching out in a particularly tempting sunbeam and falling into a light doze. 

At first you had been concerned that such a large creature was running amok around the village, but soon enough you settled back against your favourite tree and regained your focus on your flowers. The dog continued to arrive around the same time each day (as did you, though that had more to do with where your time off fell) and one day you absentmindedly started sketching out his form in your book and realized you rather enjoyed drawing his slumbering mass.

You weren’t certain why this creature continued coming to your little meadow, nor were you sure why he acquiesced your requests, as the one thing you were quite sure of was that he was a ninken. You weren’t quite sure why this trained fighter indulged you in this way, but he didn’t seem to mind you. In fact, there were times you swore he was lulled by the soft sound of granite on paper. You figured he must have a reason for coming by each day, and you were happy for the company. 

You hummed to yourself as you pondered over your drawing. You rather enjoyed his visits, when you thought about it. You had grown to anticipate them, looking forward to the soft sighs of the branches above signifying his arrival. And until this great beast of a dog decided to stop coming, you would continue to sketch his dozing figure.


End file.
